Robin: There's Henry Drucker. He has a chair in history at Princeton. Oh, and the short man is Hershel Kaminsky. He has a chair in philosophy at Cornell.Alvy Singer: Yeah? Two more chairs they got a dining room set.

Allison: I'm in the midst of doing my thesis.Alvy Singer: On what?Allison: Political commitment in twentieth century literature.Alvy Singer: You, you, you're like New York, Jewish, left-wing, liberal, intellectual, Central Park West, Brandeis University, the socialist summer camps and the, the father with the Ben Shahn drawings, right, and the really, y'know, strike-oriented kind of, red diaper, stop me before I make a complete imbecile of myself.Allison: No, that was wonderful. I love being reduced to a cultural stereotype.Alvy Singer: Right, I'm a bigot, I know, but for the left.

Alvy Singer: I'm so tired of spending evenings making fake insights with people who work for "Dysentery."Robin: "Commentary."Alvy Singer: Oh really? I had heard that "Commentary" and "Dissent" had merged and formed "Dysentery."

I remember the staff at our public school. You know, we had a saying, uh, that those who can't do teach, and those who can't teach, teach gym. And, uh, those who couldn't do anything, I think, were assigned to our school.

Annie Hall: So I told her about, about the family and about my feelings towards men and about my relationship with my brother. And then she mentioned penis envy. Do you know about that?Alvy Singer: Me? I'm, I'm one of the few males who suffers from that.

I was thrown out of N.Y.U. my freshman year for cheating on my metaphysics final, you know. I looked within the soul of the boy sitting next to me. When I was thrown out, my mother, who was an emotionally high-strung woman, locked herself in the bathroom and took an overdose of Mah-Jongg tiles. I was depressed at that time. I was in analysis. I was suicidal as a matter of fact and would have killed myself, but I was in analysis with a strict Freudian, and, if you kill yourself, they make you pay for the sessions you miss.

Alvy Singer: Yeah, grass, right? The illusion that it will make a white woman more like Billie Holiday.Annie Hall: Well, have you ever made love high?Alvy Singer: Me? No. I - I, you know, If I have grass or alcohol or anything, I get unbearably wonderful. I get too, too wonderful for words. I don't know why you have to get high every time we make love.Annie Hall: It relaxes me.Alvy Singer: You have to be artificially relaxed before we can go to bed?Annie Hall: Well, what's the difference anyway?Alvy Singer: Well, I'll give you a shot of sodium pentathol. You can sleep through it.Annie Hall: Oh come on. Look who's talking. You've been seeing a psychiatrist for 15 years. You should smoke some of this. You'd be off the couch in no time.